driven to distraction
by QueenPersephoneofHades
Summary: Distractions have consequences. After all these years, he'd thought he knew that. SPOILERS FOR CAPTAIN AMERICA CIVIL WAR!
Distractions have consequences.

This is a simple fact, undeniably true, easy to understand.

He has known, from his first day in the field – from his first moment of awakening – that anyone wielding power as great as that which he possesses cannot, and therefore should not, allow things to distract them from their goal.

Bullets flying through the air, debris raining from the sky, flames spreading with a roar of fury, screams of both innocents caught in the crossfire and enemies caught in their own destruction; all of this is inconsequential, a momentary thought that is easily pushed aside in favor of winning the day, stopping the chaos, restoring order once again for a short time in this turbulent world.

His laser-focused mind analyzes the battlefield, finds that which needs to be stopped, saved, or destroyed, and then he does everything he can to finish the battle with as little bloodshed as possible.

There's a reason he is kept from the frontlines, why he is the Avenger least seen on television and in the newspaper; there have been several instances, more than enough, where he has chosen to go after the terrorist over saving civilians.

The calculations made are swift and absolute; save ten, lose one thousand. Save one thousand, lose ten on camera, gain the world's ire. Mechanically, it is a simple choice to make; emotionally, it is so terrifyingly difficult. But war is no place for the heart, and he goes with the logical choice more often than not.

This is easy, this is what he knows to be right; he does not allow himself to stray, either in battle or in civilian life – if it can even be properly called that for him.

He cannot afford distractions.

Wanda Maximoff is not a distraction.

Wanda Maximoff is a teammate, a colleague, occasionally even a friend.

Wanda Maximoff is not a problem for him to solve.

Wanda Maximoff is a powerful young woman with untapped potential and utterly fierce determination.

Wanda Maximoff is most certainly not a mesmerizing beacon of beauty and grace that shines across the battlefield like a supernova amidst lesser stars.

He has the utmost respect for her, and he wishes to see her powers flourish and her confidence build into a fortress.

He does not, ever, see a bullet fly past her ear or a missile hit her shield and wish to suddenly dart to her side, wrap her in his impenetrable arms, and fly her to the compound to keep her hidden from the horrors awaiting them in the outside world.

He does not, in the privacy of his own mind, rejoice at the fact that she is forced from active duty in order to appease to the governments in the world; he cares little for the safety of others, only for the safety of her, and her alone.

He does not, also, in the privacy of his own mind, curse Tony with every creative expletive he has ever learned in his rather long employment to the man for trying to lock away an immortal whirlwind such as she.

* * *

He thinks he understands, now, why Tony built an army of suits in a matter of months to protect one woman's life. Pepper Potts was a one of a kind woman to be sure, but JARVIS had been unable to quite grasp why Tony built and modified the suit so much until it became Vision.

Wanda does not need protecting in a fight, this he has known from the moment he met her.

Her powers, still unexplainably unique on their team of assassins, supersoldiers and metal men, are strong enough to topple whole buildings with little to no effort; her resolve is even stronger still. With her brother gone and her home decimated, she has forged herself into something beyond the frightened girl who'd hidden tearfully in a Sokovian home riddled with holes.

She is fierce, intense, driven; one half of her heart gone with her twin, she refused to allow the remaining half to wilt and crumble.

She is still maturing, not yet reaching her fullest potential, but she is lethal; not in the same way as Agent Romanov, but she doesn't need to be. She's in a league all on her own.

And yet…

 _and yet_

She is human, wonderfully, beautifully human; no amount of genetic enhancements will ever take that away.

Not just in body, but in mind; her compassion outweighs her fear, no matter the risk brought upon herself.

She fights for and defends what she believes to be right, as they all do; she does not allow herself to remain shackled to the fear and distrust of the world, instead choosing to push aside her own fear of rejection until it becomes seemingly nonexistent.

Even when she is flattening him into the floor and defying Tony and the United Nations both, he cannot help a fierce twist of – not pride, exactly.

Shock, that her powers had matured into something strong enough to go up against the Mind Gem and prove fatally superior.

Grief, for her to so easily turn against him.

But most of all, there is relief, that she has risen from the ashes of her despair in Nigeria and come back stronger than ever.

When she and Clint escape, amidst the strange squeezing sensation in his chest and the furious panicking of the UN representatives, he fights down a smile; she has bested him, and he doubts it will be the last time she does so.

It is the first time in his life he has ever looked forward to losing a fight.

* * *

No one wins the fight.

Everyone loses, really.

Rogers and Barnes get away, Barton and the giant are captured, he helps Wanda up – she's a bit battered, but for the most part she's fine – and things seem to finally be winding down.

"You knew you couldn't win," he chastises her gently, but even as he's saying it the spark in her eye remains, quiet, defiant.

"It was the right thing to do," she challenges, throwing his own conviction back at him, and for a moment he's so stunned all he can do is stare at her, her windswept hair, her electric eyes, her hands still sparking crimson like embers refusing to go out with the fire.

Her conviction is true, stronger than a fortress, sharper than a blade, aware of the opposition it faces yet unwilling to back down, no matter the odds she may come across and be forced to fight.

He sees not the monster the people of the world condemn her to be, the uncaring sorceress that destroys what gets in her way and ignores the repurcussions.

He sees her belief in Rogers, her defiance against the Accords, her fear of rejection released into the wind in favor of climbing above the opinions of the world.

He sees _her,_ and for one breathless moment, the desire to see more of her magnificent mind is so overpowering he can see nothing else.

Then Tony calls for aid, to have Wilson taken off his tail, and he looks up and shoots before he's even properly aimed.

In fairness, it would have hit Wilson if he hadn't executed such a perfect midair maneuver, dropping his wings and ducking under the energy beam with the ease of long practice. But his avoidance of the shot leaves Rhodey wide open, and there isn't even time to offer a whisper of warning.

The beam hits the chest plate directly, melts the arc reactor in seconds.

Then Rhodey is falling, Tony is shouting in his ear, and he and Wanda stare at each other in equal horror as an earth shattering _thud_ comes over the coms.

* * *

"What the hell happened out there?" the whisper is hoarse, furious, barely restrained; Tony knows, logically, that it is not Vision's fault, but that does not change the fact that the one who shot his best friend out of the sky is standing in front of him.

"…. I became distracted," a desolate admission, heavy with apology but steady, calm.

"I didn't know that was possible," a weak scoff, flippant attitude rising up to bury raging emotions before they even register.

Tony leaves him there in the hallway, off to hunt down Rogers and Barnes and bring his unbridled wrath upon them, because it is easiest to blame them.

His creation, left to himself, unearthly blue eyes fixed on the man he so grievously injured being told he might not walk again, murmurs, "Neither did I."

* * *

Distractions have consequences.

This is a simple fact, undeniably true, easy to understand.

He thought he'd known this; for years, he has proven invaluable in times when a fair, unbiased opinion was needed to tip the balance, immeasurably useful when circumstances called for tough decisions.

Nothing could make him blind to his goal; nothing except a supernova deigning to walk amongst lesser stars, battling against a far bigger galaxy for what she believed to be right.

He had looked upon her ethereal radiance, and in that moment, became enchanted; because of his distraction, his creator's best friend was crippled, the woman he so _admired-desired-respected_ was locked away in a high security prison, and he was alone.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm a mess. I'm a complete fucking mess. Someone hold me and cry with me about the utter perfection that movie was. Send help because I might just drown in Scarlet Vision feels.  
~Persephone**


End file.
